The Dark City Den
by Lilac Jump
Summary: The ongoing story of the little cafe in The World That Never Was.
1. Welcome to Cafe Fez

"_Do you suppose the universe hates us?_"

The Sea of Stars is a vast and powerful existence, an immense home to the three separate frames of existence make up the known universe.

One frame lays claim to the Realm of Light. Grassy plains and sunny skies. Immeasurable ocean depths and architectural wonders.

One is host to the infamous Realm of Darkness. A foreboding, nightmarish place, brimming with ghoulish and dangerous Heartless, ready to literally rip you a new one. Amoral and inhuman is the law of the land, and few dare trespass without risking life and limb.

Yet another is the almost unnoticed Realm of Nothing- a pale existence of remnants, outcast from both the aforementioned major powers of the universe. Here, Nobodies reign supreme.

Here, in this third realm, was The World That Never Was.

"_Dude, __**the universe?**__ Tone down the melodrama an' take another sip before you rile everyone an' their Somebodies up._"

"..._you mean Others?_"

"_That too, Mister Politically Correct. C'mon, I'm not here to __**mope**__._"

"Somebodies" is an important word- remember it.

The World That Never Was was a world fraught with sorrow. This sorrow was built into the paved streets, the retched excuse for light that illuminated the city, and the rain that fell across the pale gray uniforms of the hundred thousand Nobodies that traverse the world daily. Without a heart to call its own, not unlike most all its inhabitants, this begotten world tries to make do with the eclectic slew of forgotten pieces that the "true" worlds have left behind as time seeks to tear down the aged.

These beings that inhabit the world feel the burden of this hollow existence daily. Some respond to this remnancy with an equal sense of tragedy- others, a sense of necessary retribution.

Most, nothing.

"_The facts yet remain that we are half our original existence._"

"_Mmmmmmmhmm..._"

"_...that missing half being emotions._"

"_Oh! Right, that. Bummer. But what else is new, right?_"

Somebodies are those lucky individuals with both Heart and Body. Call it a fantastic first birthday present, courtesy of The Universe.

When a Somebody dies by giving into the Darkness, they lose their Body and become a being governed by instincts and feelings- a regular animal, born from the dark emotions harbored in their Heart. These dark creatures are called Heartless.

But sometimes, very rarely, the Body is capable of retaining will without the presence of the Heart. Without their emotional counterparts and Hearts, though... in time, the Body loses **all **emotions and memories. This sad existence- remaining human in mind, but not in soul...

These are Nobodies.

"_We don't have any emotions. We're losing more and more of our past selves- our memories- as the days go by. Some of us don't remember who we were at all._"

"_...kinda makes you feel bad for Master Roxas, huh. Starting off as a blank slate, I mean._"

"_Don't forget Master Xion. But now we're off topic._"

* * *

Clouds parted about the tall-as-heck skyscraper standing true and stall in the night-washed Dark City, forming an iconic circle around the sky born spire. No stars gleamed down at the black and blue world before Memory's Skyscraper, no moon to comfort the eyes forced to wade through the brash of neon lights shining from any and every sort of building in the cluttered mishmash of buildings littered around the tall structure. Most all of the neon lights served to create a false impression.

You see, the City That Never Was was hollow land.

No footsteps echoed in the street. No busy click-clacking of hurried shoes beating against the steel macadam.

No beings traversed this no man's land.

But just at the feet of the monolithic black tower, the jumble of neon lights managed to form something _other_ than what happens when you give a three-year-old crayons.

Alright, _maybe _a two-year-old.

This mangled jumble of yellow could be read as _Dark City Den_.

The Dark City Den was a cafe. That much was obvious just looking in through the broad walls made solely of glass- white tile made up the unsurprisingly clean floor, a grey sort of wallpaper lined the walls, the broad countertop, and then the _dead _giveaway- customers.

A few Dusks humbly sipped at their _Grey Memory_s while chatting amiably with their compatriot Dusks sitting apart from them. A Gambler Nobody had sat himself down in the only booth in sight- in the far right corner of the cafe- but had the sole company of a glass of _Thought Draught_ in his hand. He didn't seem to mind.

There were a few larger Nobodies sitting atop the barstools before the countertop separating the owner of the Dark City Den from his customers. Seats with backs, you see, are hard for a large and... well, _spiky _Dragoon to slip into. Barstools make for a far more comfortable option, something the Dragoon sitting in one just then no doubt appreciated on some level.

Speaking of the owner. A solitary Sorcerer Nobody manned the cafe from behind the counter, with untold might and power apparent from the manner in which he powerfully wiped away at a glass. Which says something. It's hard to clean dishes _powerfully_, you know.

It was a good day. Not a bad one, not a spectacular one. There were customers, though not many. The floors were clean, but not everyone here had been polite enough to order a drink.

Fez was content. He continued to polish the glass.

One Dusk shoved his elbow into the side of another.

"Off topic? I dunno about _that_," the first of the two individuals replied. "They're plenty related- maybe they're, like, an example of what's to come."

"No," the second one said, placing the glass of _Grey Memory_ down on the countertop. He glanced down at the glass, looking at the myriad of shifting grays layered upon each other, his mind in deep thought. "No, I don't think so, Flatcap. They're Organization."

Flatcap paused, his mind chewing on the stingy rebuttal, his mouth downing the _Thought Draught_ faster than most would think sane. Er, safe. Flatcap's mind found the reply far too stingy to bother asking for seconds.

"Alright," the Dusk conceded, "they're all Other-ly and stuff-" to which his compatriot looked back down at his drink, biting down the urge to correct Flatcap- "but I _seriously_ _doubt_ that means the universe's out to get us or anything, Ber."

Ber- short for Beret- shook his head.

"The entire premise of our existence is that we are half our original selves," he said in his continued, monotonal drawl. "And if that's not convoluted, I couldn't say what _is_."

Flatcap took a sip from his _Thought Draught_. Only a sip- he'd found his reply halfway through bringing the glass up.

"You don't believe that."

Ber turned to look at the other Dusk, a question so obvious on his mind that it needn't be said.

"If you did, you wouldn't be a Nobody in the first place, now wouldja?"

Ber cocked his head in thought.

To become a Nobody, the Body left behind from the Darkness must be... well, opinions differed on the circumstances surrounding a Nobody's Other. But a certain amount of determination was largely agreed upon.

Ber wouldn't have had that determination if he was a pessimistic sort of Somebody.

As is such, he couldn't find much of an argument.

"True enough." Ber nodded.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.


	2. Daily Happenings

"But if we're gonna have a pointless argument..." Flatcap said as he dramatically slammed his glass of _Thought Draught_ onto the bar, with splashes of purple hues flying into the air briefly before dissipating, "why is it _Master_ Xion?"

"I'm not having this conversation."

"It's a _pronoun!_"

"I'm not having this conversation about pron-"

"Is it because nobody- _heh_- wants to call Master Xion an 'it'?"

_**WHAM**_.

Silence in the cafe.

All heads, save the Gambler Nobody in the far corner, looked to the barkeep whose glowing red cube had slammed into the woodwork not inches from Flatcap's head.

Fez was unamused.

Flatcap paused, his emotion-raddled brain haphazardously working through the problem every other Nobody in the Den knew the moment the cube materialized.

..._oh_, the foolish Dusk's body language seemed to say.

And then he nodded to the barkeep.

Fez was still unamused. But he'd made his point-

You don't insult the Organization. Not in this cafe.

The cube disappeared. Fez went back to powerfully wiping away at a glass with a lingering amount of Darkness in it- a _Thought Draught_, presumably.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.

* * *

Flatcap took another swig of his _Thought Draught_.

Ber looked sidelong at the Dusk, his eyes on the glass, a question on his mind.

"I know," Flatcap assured the other Nobody.

Ber turned back to his own glass of _Grey Memory_.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.

* * *

"So howabout that Organization impostor, huh?"

Ber shuddered in an attempt to convey how awkward he felt the conversation would be. Flatcap, still riding high on his emotions, didn't notice in his anticipating glee for a response, forcing Ber to concede to social convention and reply.

"...what about him?"

"Or her."

Ber simply nodded.

"Well, who'd _want_ to pretend to be Organization?"

Ber looked up and-

"_Wait_ don't answer that, stupid question, I know." Flatcap forced a laugh at that, failing to shake off the awkwardness of his laugh. "What I mean is, what _Somebody_'d want to pretend to be Organization?"

"Who's to say they're... _pretending?_"

Flatcap was in the air in a second, thoroughly surprised by the stranger's voice appearing from behind. He spilt his glass in the process.

Ber, being something of a veteran as far as Nobodies go, simply turned to look.

It was that Gambler Nobody who sat in the corner every day, looking decidedly bemused.

"Gu- _what was that for?_" Flatcap boisterously shouted at the Gambler Nobody, his mind clearly on the dumped glass of gray and purple _Thought Draught_ spread across the white tile that made up the floor, and the fine bar that-

_Fwap_ went a dish rag as it was thrown into the Dusk's face. Flatcap looked up from the dish rag, clearly offended, to the thrower.

Fez was unamused.

...Flatcap nodded, though clearly still not the most amiable of Nobodies in the room anymore, and started mopping up the drink.

The Gambler Nobody, a drink of _Thought Draught_ in his own hand, looked to the mess. "I hope you won't hold that against me, friend- it's your fault for having one too many drinks."

"Yeah, yeah, how original." The Dusk muttered, neither agreeing nor disagreeing to the impenetrable fact the Gambler had presented. Ironically, Flatcap's own response was about as "original".

Ber looked on at the Gambler.

The Gambler was, as were most of the Nobodies, indistinguishable in outward appearances from one Gambler to the next. This Gambler, however, had a certain aura about him that was surprisingly... familiar.

"What did you mean?" Ber inquired to the Gambler.

The Gambler turned to return both the look, and the question. "With what?"

"The impostor," Ber said, humoring the Somebody-like behavior. "You suggested the impostor _was_ Organization."

"Ah, the impostor." the Gambler nodded.

He took a sip from his glass.

"No," he said plaintively. "No, I didn't say that."

Ber found himself curious.

Flatcap ceased his grumbling as he wiped away at the remains of his drink to listen.

Fez silently wiped away at a glass with stringent specks of gray in it, probably a _Grey Memory_, within earshot.

"What I said was that this cloak-wearing man might not be attempting to imitate the Organization." the Gambler said, as if that explained everything.

_**WUMP.**_

A fist fell on the bar. A few heads turned, those within earshot, and looked to Fez's unexpected entering of the conversation.

The Gambler hesitated a moment.

...he took a quick sip at his glass before replying to Fez.

"Naught but rumors, Fez." With open arms, in a What-Do-I-Have-To-Hide? expression, the Gambler continued, "but I'll share them anyway.

"A cloak, gentlemen, is but a cloak."

Everyone paused a moment, processing this information. Everyone but Flatcap, who promptly replied, "They're not exactly lying around in the _streets_."

The Gambler nodded. "True enough, Flatcap. But as you yourself said... Who'd go out of their way to assume the identity of a group of individuals who, for one, are very powerful, and second, wouldn't take kindly to the challenge?"

Flatcap moved to respond- and stopped himself. He sat back in the barstool, taking a moment to muse.

It was Ber who spoke next, and finally.

"Then what of the cloak?"

That was the important question, then. Where did this impostor's cloak come from?

If they knew that, they would know of the impostor's awareness- or lack thereof- of the Organization.

In a very succinct manner, the Gambler shrugged.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.

* * *

_Tapt, tapt, tapt_.

Flatcap turned to look at the broad windows that seperated the cafe from the Dark City.

There were Neoshadows- _Heartless_- buggering around the entrance.

The Dusk sniggered as he took another swig from his _Thought Draught_.

Dinner _and_ a floor show. Priceless.

He turned to order another glass-

Uh.

Flatcap looked at a very expectant Fez.

The Dusk looked to the Heartless... and then back to Fez.

Ber had to stop himself from taking a drink from his own glass, if only to watch the exchange that was soon to follow.

"...who, _me?_" Flatcap responded rhetorically. "I'm not- look, a little laugh is one thing, but I'm not tryin' to insinuate I'm-"

"But is it really trying that matters?"

Flatcap latched on to the conversation faster than Master Vexen to his clipboard.

"Not sure I follow, Ber." he replied with a smooth turn of the stool for his compatriot.

"You certainly insinuated it."

"I don't know about-"

"Does whether or not you meant to insinuate it really matter?"

Flatcap looked to Ber, ex-compatriot. And then to Fez.

And then leapt into the air, sweeping his arm over an invisible headline. "_I can see it now- __**DUSK BRUTALLY MURDERED BY HEARTLESS OUTSIDE LOCAL ESTABLISHMENT**__-_"

"We don't have a newspaper."

"Oh. So you're saying I _shouldn't _do it then?"

_**THUMP.**_

Heads turned for the barkeep in the cafe, Flatcap's and Ber's included.

The Neoshadows outside continued to pester away at the windows, seemingly bemused by the turn of events.

Fez was unamused.

And the problem at hand remained a problem. The Heartless couldn't be let in.

Fez turned to the Dragoon sitting to Flatcap's left. As Flatcap breathed a sigh of relief, the Dragoon nodded before disappearing in a flash of gray and black hues, leaving his _Thought Draught_ on the bar.

And then normal Flatcap thinking resumed. The Dusk immediately floated on over to the windows to watch the carnage ensue. He wasn't alone- a couple of other Dusks had gotten up to see the display of power, and even a Dancer looked out the window with mild interest.

It wasn't often they got to treat such things as... a spectator sport.

The Dragoon was talented at what he did. He reappeared not from behind the group of Neoshadows, but from above, bringing down the harsh judgment of the titanic lance it held within its grip to send shockwaves through the macadam and stone before Memory's Skyscraper, effectively scattering the Neoshadows into the air in a burst of speed parallel to their own.

Not one to let a single hit get in, the Nobody was quickly wrapped in Nothing as it vanished from view once more.

The Neoshadows responded with a mad dash for the ground, where they would be safe, out of harm's reach.

The Dragoon appeared again, blitzing down from above and catching an impressive _two_ Heartless with the broadside of the lance's blade, tossing the both of them high into the air in a smooth motion that let the wings before the Dragoon's back send the Nobody flying after the wind-tossed Heartless.

The Neoshadows were not living up to their legendary prowess among Nobody-kind. These Heartless, halved into a fine black mist by a single skyward bash from the Dragoon, seemed oddly tame.

This didn't stop the group before the windows watching with envy and admiration.

The Dragoon turned to empty air once more.

The Heartless below, safely spattered among the neon-lit streets in black spatches of shadow, did not see fit to return any blows.

As is such, the Dragoon reappeared to an empty pavilion.

He didn't mind.

The task complete, he reappeared above the barstool. The small crowd at the windows met him with respect and congrats- "_How many Neoshadows was that? Five? Ten?_"- as they returned to their seats.

A single glass made its way before the triumphant Dragoon, filled to the brim with _Grey Memory_.

The Dragoon looked to Fez, who in turn, nodded.

The victorious Nobody took a swig.

Fez was content.

"_Dude._"

The Dragoon, midgulp, turned to Flatcap.

"...just,_ dude._"

Fez surreptitiously took what remained of the eccentric Nobody's _Thought Draught_ away, and Ber quickly picked up on the line of thought involved- he followed this up with another line of topic entirely to help aid the subterfuge.

And the Gambler in the corner took a small sip from his own glass of _Thought Draught_.

_Had the Dragoon been drinking a Grey Memory before?_, he wondered briefly, before shrugging the topic off for a more relevant problem.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.


	3. Just Another Day

"So why're we all gray?" Flatcap asked to no one in particular.

"..."

"Gray. _Gray._"

"Oh." Ber paused. "That's... an odd-"

Flatcap elbowed his compatriot in the side, nearly dumping Ber's _Grey Memory_ over the counter. "I know, I know- it's almost the end of the month, no worries."

"_Hmmm._" Ber still found Flatcap's insightful questionings oddly frequent as of late. Still...

Ber motioned politely behind Flatcap.

Curious, Flatcap turned-

Oh. Ha ha ha.

"Okay, fine," Flatcap confessed as he turned from the Dragoon, "_Purple too_. (Geez.) That doesn't exactly-"

Ber took a small sip from his cup as he again pointed towards another Nobody.

Cue facepalm.

"_Sure,_ and the many shades _in between_," the exasperated Dusk nearly groaned at the sight of the many stripes along a nearby Assassin's limbs. "C'mon Ber, this isn't exactly a rebutt-"

Ber pointed back to a lone table sitting before the glass entranceway. Groaning, Flatcap humored him one more-

...

"You know what- fine! Whatever. _Never mind._"

Ber apologetically waved to a very befuddled Dancer, who was sipping from a glass with a yellow glove, before turning back to his own drink.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.

* * *

"Why do you suppose the Keyblade exists?"

Flatcap shrugged. "Iunno. Why do stars glow?"

"Hmm."

And with that, the conversation was dropped.

* * *

Dusk after Dusk shuffled in through the door of the Dark City Den, each with rips and odd creases across the gray jumpsuits they wore day after day.

Not one of them spoke, in a haunting silence that soon befell the cafe as every last chair and stool soon found themselves filled with a Dusk.

Fez was curious. Not curious to stop any of the seemingly endless horde of customers from ordering a drink for a question. But curious nonetheless.

The Gambler Nobody who so often harbored in the corner booth walked up to the door, took one look, and kept right on walking.

Assassins, Dragoons, Dancers- all took a single glance at the occupants of the cafe, and turned tail.

The Den was filled to the brim with Dusks.

Ber eventually made his way to the bar before Fez, quietly ordering his usual _Grey Memory_. Fez himself wouldn't have known he was Ber had the Dusk not simply asked for his usual. He was the first regular customer in the group.

Flatcap was another ten minutes in coming. As with every single other Nobody in the mass of Dusks, silence was practiced with a certain religious devotion until he'd had a few minutes to down a _Thought Draught_.

And then he raised his hand.

"Anyone _else_ not signing up for Master Roxas's _'endurance mission'_ tomorrow?"

Not one hand didn't rise.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.


	4. Fate of the Past

Eating tends to be more recreational than anything for Nobodies.

Organization are the only types of Nobody capable of eating actual food. The decadent chocolate cakes of old, the newfound salty yet sweet ice cream bars... non-Organization tends to have lost their bowels due to sheer stress on the body from the severe amount of bending, twisting, and _stretching_ involved in being a Nobody.

Fez came up with his own little solution.

The drinks downed daily in the Dark City Den are made from _essences_- energy of sorts directly consumed by the body on the whole.

_Grey Memory_ was the first drink he created. A glass of twisting gray hues, and a myriad of infinitesimally small particles not _quite_ visible, _Grey Memory_ is a drink born of pure Nothing. It tends to make some of the more erratic Nobodies act a little out of it for a while as a result, but on the whole, it's just a drink to satisfy. True- you _don't_ want someone other than a Nobody to drink such a thing.

_Thought Draught_ was the second, made in response to requests for a little more _zest_ in the drinks. Fez slipped in a moderately small amount of Darkness for the effect they wanted- and _what_ a zest it was. By taking the mixture of Nothing and Darkness directly- even _Organization _protects themselves with cloaks from the hazardous Dark- it can temporarily return emotions to the drinker. It was an overnight hit, and the only reason the Superior didn't swoop down and shut the cafe down right then and there were words thought up by Ber himself- having emotions, even if only temporarily, shows what we're working for, right?

Grudgingly, Master Xemnas admitted the morale value the drink seemed to have. Until he found out about a little side effect the drink had: for about the next day, the Nobody who drank from the _Thought Draught_ would be incapable of opening Corridors of Darkness due to an imbalance of Nothing and Darkness in their bodies.

That took a little more convincing.

And then another devastating fact was unearthed. And as a result, today... many tears will be shed.

* * *

It was the last day of the month.

Signs saying as much were posted across the door to the Dark City Den.

Nobody after Nobody turned away at the sight of the sign. Even the Heartless seemed to have evacuated the area before Memory's Skyscraper.

A few Nobodies did enter in spurts, with a solemn aura about them.

They did not order.

The Gambler Nobody who favored the corner booth looked at the door a moment, as if hesitating... and then turned away.

Ber did not come at all.

Flatcap was among the last to show. He trudged in, a certain looming depression- knowledge of what was to come- still scarred into his mind. He slowly worked up to the bar, where he took his seat... and looked to Fez.

Fez was not wiping away at any dish. His arms, simply crossed in patience, told Flatcap it wasn't time yet. Flatcap turned away.

No _Grey Memory_s or _Thought Draught_s were waiting familiarly behind the counter.

No Ber was here to ease the pain. Flatcap was grateful for that- he didn't want Ber to see him like... well, yeah.

Today... was going to be depressing.

The door shut for the final time that night. With a resounding _click_, all fell quiet. No more awkward conversations were necessary- it was time.

Fez turned from the group to head to the back and retrieve the needed materials.

Flatcap twisted his arms into each other in a nervous habit. He didn't want to do this, really. It was just kind of... not an option.

And Fez returned with a large container of something in his powerful arms lugging it around as though it weighed little more than a frisbee.

And he brought out the glasses.

The Nobodies present, of every shape and type, forced themselves out of their comforting seats to stand and form the needed line. They had to be quick about this, or it'd all be in vain. Flatcap less than sneakily ran as fast as his legs could take him for the back of the line.

And the first glass was poured as quickly as possible. The first Nobody in line snatched it, nodded regretfully to the glass itself, and downed it a single gulp.

Flatcap shuddered. Brave guy.

The Nobody in question- an Assassin- shuddered halfway to the nearest seat. Something was-

And he fell.

The various blade-armed limbs, wrangling with some deadly mental foe, slammed through the ground, gripping it in pain and agony. The Assassin's purple and white back heaved up and down in a false semblance of breath as the drink continued its course.

The other Nobodies did their best not to watch. Fez made a mental note to discuss more durable furniture in the future with the landlord.

And then the tears began. A hollow sobbing sound echoed through the cafe.

And then Flatcap's drink was shoved into his hand.

He hadn't noticed the line moving.

He looked at the drink.

It was a faded white, glowing slightly even in the lit cafe, with a thin layer of gray along the top of the drink- a reaction to all the Nothing in the air alone.

He... sighed, in an effort to convey a certain... _lack of interest_ with what was to come.

This was _Candescence_. Made solely of Light, this drink took away the natural Darkness resistance grown in Nobodies who had had _Thought Draught_s too often and no longer responded emotionally to the drink. Like the _Thought Draught_, _Candescence_ temporarily restored emotions- but also without the worries of Darkness imbalances. But such was the irony.

The returned emotions only served to let the Nobody feel a true and hollow sorrow as memories of a life long lost returned for the night.

Flatcap downed the drink in a single gulp, in a parody of sorts of the Assassin who now wept freely on the floor about something called a "puppy", shuddered, and moved on to a barstool. He placed his elbows on the fine wood, and let the drink do it's deed.

...

_Oh. So that's what a puppy is, huh,_ he thought dimly to himself in between false gasps for breath in an attempt to control the emotions wrecking his composure. _I, uh... I think I wanted one too._

Flatcap put his head on the counter, hiding his jumpsuit-covered face in the folds of his arms.

And with that... the conversation was dropped.


	5. Wallowing

"_**HOW MUUUUUCH IS THAT DOOOOOGGIE IN THE WIIIIIINDOOOOOW?**_"

Heads started banging against tables as Flatcap and his new Assassin friend started up another rousing chorus.

"Oi, _give it a rest!_"

"I knew tonight was gonna go through hell tonight, but _this…_"

"I've heard better noises from The _Toilet_ That Never Was!"

Flatcap and the Assassin, arms around their respective shoulders, leaned right and left on their barstools in tune with the continuing lyrics.

"_**THE ONE WITH THE WAAAAGGLY TAAAAAAAAIL…**_"

_BAM—_"_WILL YOU TWO KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY?_"

The Dragoon to the far right of the two singers slammed his drink to the bartop, slight drops of bright _Candescene_ dripping out from the slosh that ensued.

"Geez… what's wrong with a little musical number here and there, _officer?_" Flatcap scoffed, taking another sacrificial swig of his own slosh.

"Office—"

The Dragoon paused, his mouth yet moving.

He was remembering.

"That's—you're right!" The Dragoon exclaimed, giving the bartop a friendly pound in the emotional weight of the moment. "I was a police officer…"

Flatcap rolled his head, the closest his Dusk body could approximate a roll of the eyes. Other Nobodies listening in—those not preoccupied with their own internal trauma—had a certain appreciated for the situation.

Occupations are a big thing. They define a lot of your life—most people only get glimpse at their childhood, or their dying days—

A few of the onlookers even took on a jealous gaze.

"Yes, I remember—" the Dragoon continued, "I was a dramatic sort of cop, kicking in doors to basements, shooting first and asking questions second! I was always right, too, and my hunches—"

Fez turned the page of the catalog he set aside for times like this. Looks like purple is the new gray.

"Sounds like you were a regular TV show hero," Flatcap retorted, a sarcastic edge to his tone. He gripped the handle of his glass of _Candescene_, raising it to his-

The Dragoon didn't reply.

Flatcap lowered the drink, and turned.

The Dragoon was on the floor. Little more than a huddled mess of nervous breakdown.

Flatcap sighed. He sighed guiltily, not bothering to look back at some of the nasty shots some of the other Nobodies were giving him for his retort.

It looked like Flatcap was right about the Dragoon being little more than an actor in his life.

Flatcap scratched the back of his head. He _had_ kinda made and destroyed the Dragoon's self-image in the same breath.

The Dusk floated over to the fallen Nobody. His hand wavered a moment, but was placed on the Dragoon's shoulder.

"Look," Flatcap started, "I dunno about your past life, but hey! Right now—"

"I JUST WANT TO BE _LOVED—_" the Dragoon shouted, turning like lightning and reaching out for Flatcap—

* * *

"…"

"…"

Ber coughed.

"…"

"…"

"…you want to talk about last night?"

"_No._" said Flatcap, his hand reflexively reaching for the purple stain on his hood.

…Ber nodded.

And with that, the conversation was dropped.


	6. Panache de Hood

Slouch raised the glass of brimming _Grey Memory_ to the tip of his hood, letting the shimmering gray liquid flow in.

He was not particularly comfortable today.

Oh, Café Fez was all very well. Business seemed to be booming, if the sheer number of people who'd come and asked him to shove off of the corner booth was anything to go by. Packs of Dusks had been bothering Slouch since word had started to well and truly get through the ranks regarding the Dark City Den. Slouch remembered hearing through the grapevine that the Sorcerer Nobodies were instructing all other Nobodies to stay silent when near Organization. The Gambler Nobody gave a soft chuckle at the notion of Master Roxas in the cafe.

_Wonder what a glass of _Candescence_ would do for the memory-less Nobody?_, Slouch mused silently. His hand sloshed the _Grey Memory_ in his hands around as he thought.

But for the Sorcerer Nobodies to be taking it upon themselves like that... Slouch had a hunch that the Superior had had a hand in that. The notion of Master Xemnas trying to keep the cafe under the table was an interesting one. It said something about whether or not he approved of the cafe, did it not?

This Gambler Nobody sent a silent mental prayer towards Kingdom Hearts that the Superior wanted to downplay the Den. There was no need to let Mistress Larxene know where large numbers of lesser Nobodies gathered.

Slouch lowered his glass to the table with a shudder.

True though it may be that the corner booth has the most seats, this Gambler Nobody had always shooed away the other Nobodies. Perhaps a little strange from where they stood (or floated, as the case may be), but he liked his solitude.

And the booth seats always _were_ the most comfortable.

But Slouch shifted for the third time today, trying and failing to get comfortable in the laidback atmosphere of the Den—chatty though it may be. The regulars were all in and drinking away the day's sorrows:

Flatcap, a rather loudmouth of a Dusk whose hood seemed to have taken on a purple hue since the last _Candescence_ get-together, was swearing between drinks that he'd seen the Organization Imposter on his last mission. Something about bishonen. Slouch took another sip at his _Grey Memory._ There was a reason why the Gambler Nobody skipped out on those end-of-the-month binges.

However, Ber was someone Slouch could altogether sympathize with. That Dusk had a lot of sense about him, if a little too straight-forward in his ways. A philosopher kind of non-person. If Master Vexen wasn't so stuck in his master-servant mentality regarding the Nobody following, perhaps the two would've enjoyed a conversation about the nature of the universe or some other scientific-minded thing. He was trying to talk down the crowd gathering around Flatcap about that Imposter, without too much luck.

There was also an Assassin who looked familiar (if... embarrassed...?) in a corner, and a Dragoon sipping from a _Grey Memory_ that seemed on friendly terms with the barkeep.

Not to begrudge Fez himself, of course! The Sorcerer Nobody seemed particularly content with the boom in popularity, as munny changed hands and drinks were handed out at a fair pace. Slouch vaguely wondered is Fez would actually hire anyone as a result of this new activity.

On any normal day, Slouch would've gladly laid back in his corner booth, drink away the free time between missions, comfortable as can be and enjoying the white noise accompanying his thoughts.

Slouch paused.

He hadn't meant to make a pun.

_Chk—chk…_

The door. Slouch sighed softly to himself. There was his cue.

_No,_ Slouch though as he shifted his way off of the booth bench, took to his feet, and waved to the newcomer. _I'm not very comfortable at all, am I?_

The newcomer turned to the Gambler Nobody.

His hood lowered slightly, nodding.

The black-cloaked individual, his boots squeaking against the untouched tile lining the floor and his hands, gripped tight with black gloves, swaying from side to side, stepped forward.

And with that, silence filled the café.


End file.
